A Fat Paycheck
by Aris24
Summary: For a prompt on the Cabin Pressure Kink Meme: Business finally takes off and MJN becomes a fairly profitable company, so Carolyn is able to start paying Martin. Now that he no longer gets exercise from his van job, and has more time and money to devote to eating, a change comes over the captain. Douglas very much approves. Weight gain, fat appreciation kink. ChubbyMartin/Douglas!


_**Author's note: I'm lifting my head out of the chaos that is college finals to bring you this fic that wouldn't leave my brain alone. It was supposed to be a quickie but it became a 3k. Whoops. haha Hope you enjoy! I'll hopefully be writing more once we reach the second week of May. I'm hoping to try the thirty day fatlock challenge :) - Aris**_

**_For a prompt I found once upon an internet meander_ : **_Business finally takes off and MJN becomes a fairly profitable company, so Carolyn is able to start paying Martin. It's not what captains usually get, but it's enough - Martin can finally move out of the student house, sell his van and start eating properly. Improved diet, combined with lack of exercise he used get from lugging various heavy objects around, causes Martin to start gaining weight. Soon he starts looking slim instead of starved, then healthy, and then... a little bit overweight. Douglas finds the new Martin absolutely irresistible._

"Good morning, Martin," said Douglas, not looking up from his paper as he heard the other man enter the flight deck.

"Morning, Douglas," came Martin's reply with a slight yawn. That made Douglas look up at his captain.

"Sir had a late night?" he drawled with some interest that only heightened as his eyes swept up the man's figure.

Martin stretched, the buttons of his uniform straining with his movements and a gentle roundness pushing out beneath the jacket. "No," answered Martin, before settling himself down in the chair, "I'm just sleeping a lot more soundly lately. No idea why. Has Arthur brought coffee?"

"He's making it now," said Douglas, pursing his lips slightly to ensure his expression didn't give him away. He looked slowly back to his paper and added, "Flight plan's filed. And I took the liberty of completing the walk around."

Even without seeing the other man's face, the first officer could imagine Martin's look of surprise.

"R-really? God, Douglas, what's gotten into you?" the younger man laughed.

"No idea. Let's hope I get well again soon," said Douglas, giving his paper a dignified rustle before pretending to be engaged in it again. He snuck a sideways glance at Martin's happier, _fuller,_ smile and swallowed. More sleep wasn't all Martin had been getting lately, oh no. And Douglas couldn't be more pleased. Perhaps it was time to start letting Martin win the cheese tray as well...

* * *

It had all started just a few months before. By some miracle (there was no other word for it as far as Douglas was concerned) MJN had managed to acquire a large amount of popularity. News about an often rude but kooky airline had begun to spread. It seemed to be some new fad which had taken all the top companies by storm. Suddenly what had made MJN a last ditch resort made it a rising star. CEOs and other travellers would book with MJN for the novelty of unusual, or well horrible, service. Perhaps it would wear off within a few months, that had seemed to be the fear between himself and Carolyn (Martin and Arthur seemed rather oblivious about the joke). But they were both going to enjoy it as much as possible. Carolyn could perform her customer disservice as she pleased, and Douglas could continue thinking up all sorts of unprofessional cabin addresses. He was up to nearly fifteen Hitchcock film references now.

The added boon was that MJN had somehow become a profitable business almost over night. This meant that Martin's paycheck suddenly matched his own, then reached an actual captain's salary. Douglas could still picture in perfect detail Martin's face when he had opened his first paycheck envelope with shaking fingers. Then a month later Douglas had had to step in to keep him from falling to the floor as he spluttered at the number of figures printed below his name.

Douglas was immeasurably happy for the man. The poor fellow needed a break. He'd heard to often of him going hungry or slowly starving on a diet of pasta, toast, and potatoes. The extra money meant that Martin could move out from the student housing and get a proper flat. A month after the first paycheck, Martin announced he'd taken his last van job. The amount of joy in the man was enough to warm Douglas from across the flight deck.

Martin was looking better as well, another pleasant result. He told Douglas about all the restaurants he was trying now that he had the money. The first officer was quite pleased to hear that his captain had an appetite both adventurous and insatiable. Martin spoke of enormous rich steaks, thick burgers and fresh chips, tantalizing Chinese takeaways, enough pizzas and lasagnas to put a carb addict into a blissful coma. Sweet cakes, sugary pasties, and other indulgences. Douglas couldn't help but feel something stir within him whenever he inquired what his captain's previous dinner had consisted of. It was good to see him finally enjoying and caring for himself. And of course, it wasn't long before physical manifestations of such enjoyment became apparent.

Starved lines turned to slim as bone thin wrists and knobby elbows became graceful and lean. Martin stood taller (though still markedly shorter than Douglas) and his face lost the pinched hollowed look. Over time Martin's uniform began to actually look as though it fit him. His shoulders and chest filled out the jacket while a really quite delectably round bum and thighs began to give shape to the trousers. He looked more like a captain, no longer like a child wearing his father's work clothes. But it hadn't quite stopped there, much to Douglas's delight.

Nowadays, a plush set of love handles were pushing against Martin's waistband, spilling over lightly, fleshy and exposed when Martin sat. A round little potbelly grew to test the fabric and buttons of his uniform jacket. It was clear that now that Martin was no longer restricted by a shoestring budget, his appetite was allowed to flourish and grow. Along with other areas and that was why Douglas was finding it increasingly hard not to stare whenever his captain was near. Yes, now Douglas could see that his time had come to add a bit of assistance. A growing Martin needed a steady increase of sustenance so Douglas would most certainly be losing the cheese tray more often. Not always, that would be suspicious. But the large bets, interspersed with the more innocent ones, those Martin was always granted. Douglas had worked it out so that Martin had almost the entire tray to himself every so often. And oh, those were good days indeed. Those days Martin's uniform ended up looking just a teensy bit more snug at landing than it had at take off. That was very much do to another wonderful aspect of Martin's new development. The added little chub of belly meant that every shift and change, however minute or grand was plain for the trained eye to see. And Douglas's eye was very well trained indeed. Full marks in agility which got it out of trouble for it's failures in obedience to look away at times of high risk and close proximity. Thus far he was quite certain Martin hadn't caught him looking.

It was getting even harder not to touch to be quite honest. Today Martin's uniform was fitting exceptionally well, tight enough across the stomach that Douglas could clearly make out the shape of it. He licked his lips unconsciously, then grinned as Martin sat and tugged at his trouser hem.

"All right, mon capitain?" asked Douglas with well-acted nonchalance.

"Fine," said Martin, squirming slightly again and then buckling himself in. He huffed and slouched, and that little belly rounded out just a little bit more. Lovely.

"Having some trouble with your laundry?" supplied Douglas carefully, "I couldn't help but notice Sir's discomfort. I could give you the number for my dry cleaner."

"Oh, yeah, er must be," said Martin, shifting again due to trousers that were undoubtedly too tight and cutting into the chubby belly that had been growing quite nicely over the past months. "I think the washer in my new place washes things too hot to get it to shrink. I mean. I try not to wash it too often, not more than I have to. It's not really supposed to go in a machine but I just..." He frowned down at his front and adjusted his jacket which was riding up again.

"Old habits," said Douglas with a shrug, "Though dry cleaning really is better. You ought to be able to afford it now." He smiled and Martin smiled back.

"Yeah, I suppose I can," said the younger man, "So how do you want to pass the time? We've got a few hours flight to India after all."

Douglas offered up Beat the Manuals for the sole purpose of losing to Martin. Any pain from the game would be so worth the rewards when the cheese tray arrived and would be scarfed down by his softening captain. The strain on Martin's trousers had given the old sky god an idea.

Once airborne, he saw it take affect. He successfully lost the game and bowed to Martin's superior knowledge of that dratted book. Then Arthur brought in coffees and the cheese tray.

"All yours, captain," said Douglas with feigned disappointment.

Martin chuckled and took up a piece, popping it into his mouth. "Oh, go on Douglas, you can have some too," he said, giving the first officer a small smile.

"Thank you, but you won it, fair and square," said Douglas, "I bow to your wisdom. Now if only you would recognize my more practical knowledge when it comes to flight." His eyes flicked to Martin's fingers, still slim but no longer bony as they selected another piece of the cheese and brought it to those full lips to be chewed and swallowed down.

"I would but that knowledge usually goes opposite of what protocol should be," said Martin, though he was still grinning a bit.

"Ah, but it works," said Douglas and Martin laughed.

"Yeah," he said, "You're right. Your brilliant plans usually get us out of trouble. And only sometimes into them." Douglas smiled graciously and nudged the tray towards Martin once again. Once the majority had been demolished and Martin was looking quite sated, Douglas allowed himself a small grin. Stage one: completed.

"Care for mine, Martin? It will only go to waste. I had forgotten that I had packed my own," said Douglas, raising up his serving of microwave shepherd's pie. They were on their way back to Fitton now and the dinners had been served.

"Oh, er. Are you sure?" asked Martin, looking up from his own half eaten admiral's pie.

"Quite sure," answered Douglas with a winning smile. It was a lie, but Douglas wasn't really hungry. He would much rather see Martin have it. It was part of stage two after all.

"I dunno, I don't know if I should," said Martin hesitantly, regarding his own remaining serving.

"Oh come now, Martin, whyever not? These servings are never fully satisfying on their own," said Douglas breezily.

He was rewarded with a quite charming spread of red across Martin's freckled cheeks.

"Er, well I... I can't afford a new uniform," he said lamely.

"Oh? I'm certain you could. Though, Carolyn might be able to purchase you one on behalf of the company. Are you in need of one?" asked Douglas.

"Come off it," snapped Martin, suddenly bypassing embarrassment and taking a trip to rage.

"Come off what?"

"You-I-me-" The ginger and very blushing man gestured vaguely. "Oh never mind! Give it here." He snatched Douglas's uneaten pie from him and tucked in with gusto. Douglas swallowed carefully with Martin's first bite. Soon both trays were empty and Martin was looking quite exceptionally full. Douglas almost felt the need to sit on his hands, so strong was the desire to probe the rounded bulge that Martin's belly had become. He was looking positively plump. Voluptuous even. But Douglas was, as ever, a gentleman.

"So, do you find that your palate suits the Admiral or the Shepherd more favorably?" asked Douglas politely. He allowed himself an easy grin and his eyes a prolonged stare.

"Sheph-erp-ds, I think," responded Martin, sounding somewhat breathless. No wonder, his trousers had to be quite constricting now. Stage two was nearing completion. The captain shifted back and tugged at his waistband, obvious in his overfull discomfort, but there was a flush to the man's face too that couldn't be solely from embarrassment. Douglas sneaked a peak further south. No indeed. Excellent. He wet his lips again and was immeasurably pleased when Arthur emerged with their desserts.

Martin took one look at the bit of cheesecake and groaned before pushing it away.

"Something the matter, mon capitain?" asked Douglas, and immediately hoped Martin hadn't noticed how low his tone had suddenly gotten, "Wrong flavor? You could have my Key Lime pie if you prefer."

"Hah- er no thanks, Douglas. But I think I'm just going to save that for later. I'm a bit uncom-er full at the moment," answered Martin quickly, trying to discretely tug his uniform into place again.

"Oh? Shame. It looks rather nice," said Douglas, taking a dainty bite from his own dessert and letting his lips trail along the tines. "Mm, and this is rather wonderful. Care to try?" He carved a bite out, much larger than his own and held it out to Martin before he could decline.

Martin blinked at the food in front of him. "Oh, er, it's fine, Douglas really," he began, but then Douglas caught sight of Martin's tongue poking out as if to taste the air around it.

"Go on, Martin. It's lovely and airy." It wasn't it was thick and rich.

Martin parted his lips and leaned over to take the morsel from the fork. He hummed appreciatively. "Mm, oh that is good," said Martin. His eyes flicked to his own cheesecake and Douglas smirked. Ah, he'd managed to wake Sir's sweet tooth. Sure enough, moments later Martin's cheesecake was quickly vanishing bite by bite between cupid's bow lips. Finally, the last bit of creamy chocolate cheesecake was gone along with its crumbly crust and Martin sat back with a sigh. He muffled a small burp. Douglas heard a small 'pop' and a clatter as something pinged against the controls. Douglas clenched his jaw to keep himself in control. (One of them had to be flying the plane after all.) He glanced over at Martin who looked redder than he had ever seen him. He watched his captain's Adam's apple bob in that newly fleshy throat. Stage two completed. On to the more uncomfortable stage three.

"Did... was that your?"

Martin nodded, looking like he very much wanted to disappear. Douglas forced himself to draw a long slow breath. "Well," he said, putting on a jaunty grin, "You should feel more comfortable now! Though I admit it appears you were correct. A new uniform may indeed be in order." He chuckled.

Martin sucked in a breath that made his belly expand even further for a moment before he pulled it back in. Douglas swallowed hard.

"Er, yeah-I mean I did say- I mean it's not like. It's just a little- I've just, er. I'm not working the van anymore and now I can actually afford to buy things- nice things! And go out to dinner and I was so used to being hungry and I just-I like-" Martin was babbling, clearly ill at ease, the color still staining his cheeks.

"Martin! Martin, it's fine," said Douglas cutting him off and reaching over to squeeze the man's wrist. Martin stared at Douglas's hand in shock at the touch. Douglas took advantage of that to slip down to Martin's hand where he gave his captain a gentle squeeze. "I don't mind. I think it's wonderful that you can afford to eat again. It's lovely to see you enjoy yourself and look healthier."

"I-er-I think I might be a bit past 'healthy'," said Martin shyly. He hadn't pulled away from Douglas's touch however. The old sky god looked over and gave him a winning smile, then lightened his squeeze to a caress. Martin swallowed.

"Oh, I don't know," said Douglas, "I think you can afford a few extra pounds. Really." He bit his tongue to keep from going on. Other adjectives were eager to go spilling off his tongue, but perhaps it wasn't time for that yet.

"Thanks," said Martin, eyes now moving down to Douglas's hand, "Er, Douglas?"

"Oh sorry." Douglas removed his hand quickly and tried to ignore the way it felt like his heart had crumpled.

"No, don't be!" said Martin quickly, his arm jerking oddly as if he had almost reached for his first officer's again. "It-it's alright. I'm glad. Um, does this mean, I mean do you? I know it's weird just to ask but uh-"

"In fact I do," said Douglas, "The question is, do you as well? Assuming we're on the same topic."

"Er, yeah. I mean I think we are. I mean I do..."

"Ah, do what? Or does this mean we're married." He grinned and Martin giggled and oh if that wasn't the most wonderful sound Douglas had ever heard.

"Well, if I might offer a suggestion, mon capitain," said Douglas, all smoothness restored now that his goal was clear and obvious, "Why not come over to mine once we get the old girl back on the ground?"

Martin smiled, the color in his cheeks turning into a flush of pleasure instead. "Er, yeah. Okay. I'd like that," he murmured, "Just er..." He tugged at his trousers and tried to tug the zipper up at least. It had fallen open to pressure from Martin's lovely little gut.

"Oh, I have a pair of track bottoms you could borrow," said Douglas with a shrug and a smile. "Not to worry. Oh, and I have a rather lovely orange pound cake recipe I've been wanting to try."

Martin looked up in surprise. "W-what? But, what about... _this_?" he tugged his uniform down where it had been riding up again.

Douglas grinned. "Well, as I said, you can afford a few more pounds I think." He let Martin catch his appraising glance this time and the younger man's eyes grew wide and then dark.

"Oh." he said, voice breathless once again as he realized, "Oh yes. You're absolutely right. I think I can afford a few more. Or several." Martin gave Douglas a smirk and a heated look to match his own. Suddenly Fitton Airfield couldn't come soon enough.


End file.
